


bites of cookie fic

by ballpoint



Category: Marvel, New Avengers - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet, community:comment_fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-28
Updated: 2010-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 18:43:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballpoint/pseuds/ballpoint





	bites of cookie fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryuutchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryuutchi/gifts).



**worried shoes**

"Where is she?"

"Easy, son."

Eli shrugged Clint's hand off his shoulder with a bit more aggression than he should have, but right now, he didn't give a flying leap. "Where is she?" he tilted his head to look Barton in the eye, hating the fact that he was shorter than Barton, but consoling himself that males kept growing until twenty one, according to his biology notes. Eli had four years left, yet.

"Listen, she's fine. Just freaked out," Barton began, his eyes round and blue and innocent. Eli restrained himself from rolling _his_ eyes. He was taught to respect his elders, and the rest of it. Right at this moment, it was hard, what with Kate - ? Barton finally must have gotten the memo, because he stepped away and jerked his thumb in the direction of her room.

Eli knew that Kate never cared much for hospitals. She never said why, only froze when they passed one. Her shoulders rigid, her jaw stony as she stared ahead, unseeing.

Room 2098, just like Barton said, and there was Kate, curled up into a little ball at the edge of the bed, her fist to her mouth.

"Kate?"

"Eli." Kate shifted, and he didn't know how she did it, to go from blank to present, her eyes on him and involved, as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Why are you here?"

"I heard from Barton, we did." Eli said, squashing his jealousy, because now was not the time to asking himself what she ever saw in that guy, and besides, he was far too old for her. "He said, you just... freaked out."

"He talks too much," Kate rolled her shoulders with that dismissive air he knew well, when she decided that talking was done, and the action to be taken.

"Yeah, well," Eli said, as he sat on the bed beside her. "You don't speak much. For a girl."

"Sexist, too, Eli?"

Yeah, he knew _that_ tone too. Cassie called it To The Manor Born, and she'd tugged at an imaginary forelock before rolling her eyes.

"You got me," Eli raised his hands in surrender. "Elijah Bradley. Student. Patriot. Sexist."

He got the reaction he wanted when Kate gave him a tremor of a smile. "One of those things," she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Shouldn't belong."

Eli stayed there, listening to the hum of hospital just outside their door. The squeak of rubber shoes on tile, the creak of trolleys as they rattled down the passages with food on them. Eventually, he felt Kate's head on his shoulder, smelt the moss in her shampoo and shower gel, because Kate, despite everything was a _girl_ first, with soft skin and hair perfumed by expensive cosmetics.

"I c-can't tell you. Not now, okay?" Kate sniffled. "I-I j-j-just froze for a moment, and - I couldn't breathe. I just-"

"Okay," Eli leaned his cheek against the top of her head. "We just wanted to know that you were okay, you know? Because Wiccan can't shoot."

The movement of her head against his shoulder as she huffed a laugh was the only acknowledgement. It felt weird, considering physically, this was the closest they had been together since that ill fated carriage ride.

"Eli?"

"Yeah?"

"Just - stay here for a minute, 'kay?"

" 'Kay."

**They that matter don't mind.** Young Avengers: Kate Bishop, Eli Bradley

Eli knew things. You couldn't grow up being a black guy in NYC, USA being ignorant of certain things.

The fact that Langston Hughes was forced to opine that that 'I too, am America', in poetic verse and how certain members weren't allowed to sit at the table, even now. How him seeing Kate as she was -this moment- half naked, bare arms and sunbrowned, might have gotten him a lynching up to the middle of the last century.

He knew things: like Kate having a sprinkling of freckles across her chest when she got a tan, and how dark her eyes got when they kissed. When she giggled, she sounded twelve, and young. Not as old as she wanted to be.

So on this fine morning, when the sun decided to sulk behind the mist of the clouds, and they were in the ratty sleeping bags in the study, Kate tangled her hands in the hem of his shirt and sighed, "My father would hate you." Eli nodded, and said, "I know."

"He shouldn't," Kate shook her head from side to side, her hair spread across the pillow like unbounded skeins of black silk yarn, all luxe and heavy. "He _oughtn't,_" she said again, going into the tony tones of that fancy all girls school her dad insisted that she go to, _My mother was an alumni of Hawthorne Academy, see?_

"Yeah, I know, don't sweat it."

"And you're just... _okay_ with that?" Kate's voice was raw and passionate. "It's an injustice that he can't accept you. It's..." she trailed off, leaning her head against his shoulder, her fingers now playing with the collar of his shirt. "You're so good, and your grandfather was the basis of ... Captain America. He was like, the first, right? But all my Dad sees..."

"Kate," Eli placed his hand over hers, and threaded their fingers together. Another thing Eli knew; that there are certain things that Kate couldn't understand, no matter how passionately she wanted to. As long as she loved him, and respected him, as much as he did her, they'd be okay. Battered a little, because one couldn't live in NYC, USA and not be battered as they both were - although she never confirmed his suspicions.

"This thing right here?" Eli said as he tightened his fingers around hers. "Your Dad won't understand, and it's okay, because you do."

"They that mind don't matter, they that matter, don't mind." Kate murmured, as she touched her forehead to his.

" Dr Suess."

"Yeah," Kate laughed, and it was okay.

**Sparring** Kate Bishop, Clint Barton

It took many things to be a hero, Kate knew. Heart was one of 'em, the fevered rage in her being to right wrongs, as if it were sort of calling was the other. The last, but not the very least, was this- meeting the physical requirements of one. She ducked under the force of Clint's blow, as she got flat on the floor, for only a second, as he lifted his leg, and made it fall, as heavy and sharp as an axe at the foot of a tree.

"Huhn-" Kate huffed as she rolled to one side, blinking her eyes against the ache in her side. As unyielding as the desert sun, as sharp as nails.

"How's it going, Princess?" Clint stepped into her space. Kate shifted her weight to her right leg, twisted her torso, angled her foot and aimed it at his knee. Only to be a hair's breath off target; her balance precarious as it was a second ago, moot now, as Clint did that shimmy, blocked her foot with his knee.

"Arrgh!" Kate screamed, more from frustration than pain as she landed on her backside. "Offf!"

With a grunt, she rolled over, resting her weight on her elbows, her hair now out of its slippery braid and fell around her face like a curtain. She huffed, wiping at her eyes, only to see his hand in front of her face, his broad palm and long fingers.

"Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride," Kate pushed herself to her knees, ignoring his mute offer of help.

"One day," Clint gave her _that_ smile, the one which hinted of male interest, teamed with the twinkle in his eyes. Kate let it pass. She was using Clint all right, but not in the ways he wanted her to. Too bad for him.

"One day you'll be able to beat me," he said, "but not today."

Kate wiped at the back of her mouth, and shook her hair back from her shoulders. "Again," she said.

**artifice** Daken

Deception, Daken knew, was the finest art. Before he slipped into his old man's brown and gold and black suit, to play hero on the biggest stage, he honed his craft away from the spotlight, before the world knew his name.

"We did it," she said. Her name, he could never remember, and why bother, she changed them at will anyway. "That oaf of a man didn't see us coming. Oh darling, the things we can buy. An island off the coast of Portugal, perhaps?" she threw the notes in the air, walking through them as if they were leaves falling on and around her in the height of Fall. "Daken, darling, we can -" the words stilled on her tongue as the stupid cow _finally_ realised that she was at the business end of the nuzzle.

"Bang, bang, babe." Daken brought the nuzzle of gun to his lips and blew across it as one would a flute.

Act two, involved him hiding his tatoos, growing his hair, and wearing suits with names that sounded foreign and naughty. Armani, Gucci. Waltzing in a world where wet works didn't involve blood, and death was at the stroke of a pen, in terms of contracts and law. "A most vexing thing," Daken began, his accent edging towards musical Italian. His companion darkly handsome as only the Italians were, with dark hair, and olive skin. "I can't believe you did it, Marco."

"Stick with me, Carlo, and I'll show you the world, I promised you, eh?" his companion said, as he took a sip of his wine. The glass shattered against the tile, red wine spattered like blood as Marco held his throat. Carlo's eyes widened, the fear pumping off him, delicious.

When Carlo died at his feet, in throes of convulsions and agony, Daken stepped out. Shedding his coat and shoes, using a claw to slice off the end of his ponytail grown for the ruse.

***

"You drink tea, because it reminds you of... her?" Karla asks, eyes soft with sympathy for him, and Daken leans forward. He doesn't even have to rely on his unique biology to make Karla see what she wants to see.

***

As Daken slips into the brown and gold and black of his old man's costume. For a brief moment, he stares at himself in the mirror, and wondered, what it might be like if he pretended to be his old man. He hears the murmur of the audience outside, and drags the mask over his face as he moves to join the rest of the Dark Avengers, the line up to be announced, headed by Osborn. In the next thirty minutes, he's about to find out.

**bonds by right, if not by blood** Bucky Barnes, Rikki Barnes

She's like his late sister, and not just in name, Bucky thinks, as he observes Rikki Barnes poring over the maps. They are on the roof, and no matter how he tries to turn her back: _I won't think less of you if you think its too big for you, you know?_ or _Probably you might want to sit this one out?_ Rikki gives him that smile; its enough to make the edge of her lip curl, and she's enough teenager to make it sardonic. _I'm here, I'm not leaving,_ she says, _I'd like to see you make me try._

So, they are here now. It's just a basic assignment, run of the mill. A few bad guys breaking into a warehouse according to the police frequency, but enough for her to show him what she can do.

"That's the plan, got it?"

"Got it," Rikki slips on her Eckhart googles, and tugs her gloves while flexing her fingers.

"If this is too big for you-" Bucky cuts in.

"Not at all," Rikki says, her smile genuine this time, all teeth and all girl. "But if it's too big for _you_ -?"

Bucky smiles, because Rikki reminds him at his age, all piss and vinegar, and anyone who ever doubted that, either got the message or got out of the way.

"Let's do this."

They run from the roof, all light footed, and quick. Angling in, Bucky goes for the door, only to have Rikki ahead of him, feet out, shield up, and the door busted off its hinges.

Yeah, the sister he never had, Bucky thinks. The daughter he'd like to have, if fate goes that way. _We're gonna have some fun._

**The Centre Cannot Hold.** Dark Avengers : Karla/Lester

"Osborn's gonna break like an egg."

Half awake, Karla rolled towards the source of the comment. It was Lester's voice in her ear.

"Hmm?" she murmured sleepily. It was still night, if the moon over the bay was anything to go by. Say what you wanted about Stark and Stark Tower overcompensating phallic wise - probably to rival Captain America's bulge - not that she looked, mind. What had she been thinking of again? Oh yeah, the Stark Tower had great views.

"The centre cannot hold." Lester muttered, raising his arms, putting them behind his head. Karla sat up, rubbing her neck and shoulders with the flat of her palm. "Osborn is one short of a baker's dozen, if you know what I mean."

Karla pressed her fingertip to the edge of Lester's armpit, enjoying the shadow of the hair there, running it past his ribs, down to his flank.

"We can be mere anarchy, then," she said, as she rose on her knees, and swung them so that she was straddling Lester. Karla moved so that their groins were flushed against each other, and rocked herself against him until she felt him stir and harden.

"You think it's a joke, Karla?"

"No," Karla moved along his body, purposely brushing her nipples against his torso. She pressed her lips against his, a long slow kiss, with lots of tongue and heat. "I think that whatever happens, we'll be fine," she said between kisses. "Because that's what we do."

Karla thought it a success when she felt the curve of Lester's lips against hers.

**Goodwill To All Men** Rikki Barnes, Young Avengers

Rikki Barnes ran the brush through her hair, until she smoothed out the tangles, and let it hang like a curtain around her ears and jaw. It looked neat, dignified. With a self conscious snort, she raised her hands to her hair and ruffled it into the mop she was comfortable with, then made her way out of the bathroom.

Christmas in this side of the world was like Christmas on the other side. New York still wrapped in white, and - she pressed her nose to the window- still had snowmen.

"Hey."

"Hey," Rikki turned to the direction of the voice and it was Eli, in black button down and black slacks. He didn't look like Eli, Patriot, but Eli: Cool Dude. Self consciously, she stepped away from the window, and tugged the ends of her sweater over her hands.

"Merry Christmas," Eli greeted, as he stepped towards her, hands in pockets. "I thought you'd never come down."

"You know what it's like," Rikki began, shifting from one foot to the other. "Brushes, you know? They never get - geez." she felt herself blushing, because Eli was sporting a chrome dome.

"Yeah, well, I used to have hair. So uh yeah. Huh..." Eli held out his arm, the move really awkward, like a chicken whose broken wing hadn't set properly. "Your arm, m'lady?"

Rikki bit her lips, not wanting to spoil the moment, because Eli was sweet, and not in the skeevy way of sweet but wanting to cop a feel on the sly, either. "After you, my good man," she affected an upper crust British accent, and was warmed by Eli's grin, because it was a moment when both of them could be stupid.

***

 

When Kate threw Christmas dinners, Rikki found out, she didn't do things by halves. Snow white linen table clothes, silverware shone till it seemed like white platinum, glasses with light refracting and bouncing off their surfaces like diamonds, and Rikki found her seat.

Tonight, Kate lived up to her role as princess of the social scene and hostess, with her hair done up in a bun, and her form in a dress with a full skirt. Rikki approved of the full skirt. If you had to go formal, at least give your legs room to move just in case you had to kick the bad guys in the goolies.

"Rikki," Cassie greeted, all smiles and good humour. "Come and sit by me. Kate's decided to be a reformed Scrooge this year, and treat us to a meal."

"God bless us everyone," Rikki quipped, remembering the tale of Tiny Tim in _The Christmas Carol_.

"Yeah," Cassie whispered as Rikki sat down beside her. "It's not like Uncle Tony's dinners back when the Avengers threw parties at the mansion but -" and Rikki saw the admiring glance she gave to Kate, when Kate was busily speaking to the waitstaff, and ordering them to serve the first course. "She does well enough, you know?"

"It's Christmas," Rikki breathed, shifting as a waiter placed a covered plate in front of her, and her mouth watered at the delightful smells. She then turned to Eli, who was sitting to her left, as he stuck his spoon into the broth. "Thanks for having me," she whispered, her voice soft with gratitude. "You didn't need to."

"Heroes stick together," Eli shrugged. "And besides, it's Christmas."

**comfort in the most likely places** Kate Bishop, Eli Bradley

She was many things, Kate told herself, but a whiner wasn't one of them. Back in her teens, when she got assaulted, she didn't let it rule her life, did she? Did she heck. She honed her archery skills, whittled her body till it was nothing but sinew, muscle and instinct. She became a hero. Not a whiner, not one at all. Not even when her ex, Nathaniel Gustav III, scion and heir to many things decided that he wanted out.

"You're not the girl I married, Kate," he explained, his voice smooth as cream, his manner calm as oil on water.

"That's a lie," Kate said, refusing to scream and shriek. You didn't cow villains by being unhinged, and Nate didn't deserve her vulnerability, although her insides lurched and twisted with the hurt. _ How could you, how could you, how could you?_ But Kate let him go, standing there in her night gown with the brush in her hand, until Nate closed the door behind him with a muted click.

She gave him five minutes, before throwing her brush against the wall in a fit of pique. "Bastard."

Kate had been Hawkeye now for eight going on ten years. A few years shy of thirty, and they weren't the Young Avengers any more. Just _The Avengers_, when her namesake retired to a farm in Montana with Bobbi to ride horses, he said.

"Congratulations," Kate held his hand. "You two deserve it." That was true, after being through so much and serving mankind for so long, they did.

"Hey, Hawkeye," Clint squeezed her hand. "Promise me that you won't deny yourself a life, okay?"

"I promise," Kate nodded.

A blink, and she was in the Avengers' garden, the sun warm on her face. When the other Avengers retired, Tony Stark handed her and Cassie the keys to the kingdom, so to speak. Honoured - because it was an honour- Kate took it upon herself to funnel her finances to bring the mansion and its surroundings back to their heyday. Complete with flowering gardens and recast statues. That thought was far from her mind though, along with the fact that the air was redolent with the scent of carnations and vanilla. Kate didn't feel the warmth of the sun as it spilt over her hair and shoulders. No, just the block of ice in her gut as she scanned the paper in her hand, reading the breathy prose by Liz Jones in the _New York Post_.

"Ugh!"

"Ugh? Is that a new language you're teaching yourself or something?"

Kate rolled her eyes, not bothering to turn around. "Eli," she said, tapping the paper against her fingertips. "What brings you here?"

"Luz's came by to collect Isaiah. She wants him to meet _ Jonathan _. It's serious, she says."

"Ouch," Kate winced, annoyance now gone, replaced by compassion for her friend. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Eli said, his hands in his pockets. It was down time today, and he dressed like it; flannel shirt, white vest, battered jeans and steel toed boots. "I wish I could say I was expecting this... but I'd be lying."

"Welcome to my world," Kate waved her paper, and Eli took it from her, scanned the copy. "Bryony is eight months pregnant? But you guys only filed for divorce six months ag-"

Kate blinked back the tears. "Yeah, I should have ignored Barton and dated Superheroes instead. At least I could go over there and cut his heart out for making me-"

"He isn't worth a criminal record," Eli rolled the newspaper into a column, and tapped it against his palm. "You two were - well, cheese and chalk, Kate. You didn't gel."

"Says the man who was married to a latina Martha Stewart. There wasn't a question of when she'd leave, she had home and hearth writ all across her face. I'm only surprised that she hung on for so long."

Eli rolled his shoulders, an easy move, and Kate felt bad, like she was seventeen again, and they were in the horsedrawn cab in Central park and she rejected him. "I'm sorry," Kate said, sorry for hurting him then and now.

"You're Hawkeye, all right. Like Barton, you suffer from foot in mouth disease. It's a part of you, like your eyes and hair. We're used to it."

Kate laughed as she punched Eli in the shoulder, his muscles were iron now, as Eli the rangy teen, turned to Eli the lean, mean fighting machine. He was taller now, just hitting under six foot, but with her five five, she still had to angle her head to look at his face.

"Twerp," she said, blinking back the tears and hoping that he didn't hear her sniffles.

"Crybaby," he said, handing her the soft white hankie from his pocket. It was clean, because Isaiah was at his mom's and it smelt of detergent and sun and him.

"We should have dated each other, back then." Kate volunteered after a while, knuckling her tears away.

"We'd have killed each other, back then."

"Probably, but at least I'd have known -" Kate bit her lip to stop it from quivering, to set her voice to rights. "That you loved me, you know? With Nate, I wonder. I shouldn't- have to wonder."

In the silence that followed, nothing but the distant hum of traffic filled the space, along with explosions from the house, with smoke escaping form the window. Great, Wiccan was casting Shadow Magics again.

"Kate," Eli pulled her towards him, an arm around her shoulders as she leaned against him, feeling his lips pressed against the crown of her head. "You'll find someone who loved you as much as I did at seventeen, and more - because you deserve it, you know?"

No, Kate didn't know, but trust Eli to do something that made her feel better. He always had, and selfishly, Kate hoped that he always would.

**coffee black, egg white** Kate Bishop, Eli Bradley

They are a study in contrast, Eli knows. A kid like him from a hardscrabble background, to Kate's buff and polish. His English, serviceable and able to code switch, to Kate's almost unaccented New York East Coast tones. Eli has his own backbone and aristocracy, admittedly scruffy to Kate's hauteur and money, but they work and it hangs together in a comfortable way.

If their lives hadn't intersected by way of Young Avengers, they wouldn't have known each other. All Upper East side to his Bronx, they should jar, spark, have all that _conflict _ found in all those books that he's seen the librarians sigh over on their breaks.

So what if they aren't - he plucks the arrow from its trajectory, closing his fist around the shaft. He's quick, but his palm is going to bleed and bruise tomorrow.

"Sleeping on the job again, Eli?"

"Hey!"

"Caught you napping," Kate said, pronouncing the hard constants of the _ing_. She's not in her uniform, but a black oversized tee, that looks pretty familiar. The faded phrase of _Eeh, what's up, Doc?_ catches his eye.

"Hey!" Eli's voice is sharp with recognition. "That's my shirt."

"You donated it to goodwill. I saw it in your bag." Kate smiled, pointing her bow and arrow towards the floor. Eli always wants to tell her this, that when she smiles, the world is lit and glowing, but he'd never tell. Kate is from a world where people speak like that all the time, so it wouldn't matter. So Eli rolled his eyes, as he tosses the arrow back at her. "Whatever," he says, his mind boggling at the fact that of all the clothes in the world she chose to wear, it was his scruffy shirt to be given to goodwill, with Bugs Bunny on the front.

"My shift at the library starts in the next forty minutes, so I have to make like Cloak and teleport."

"Don't let me stop you. I have an algebra assignment to hand in tomorrow." Kate pulls a face. "We save the world, but still have to hand in assignments or get detention. Where's the justice in _that_ ?"

"Go, Helen Keller."

Kate only waved him off, "We'll meet tonight at eight, can you get off, by then?"

"Sure."

"Good." Kate nodded, turning towards the wall and setting herself up for target practice.

Eli smiled. Coffee black and egg white, what a pair they were, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

**adventures in babysitting**

"So yeah," Kate tried to blow a hank of hair from her face, but it was hard, due to the gob of pudding matted with her tresses. "Remind me, how did we get into this mess again?"

"No one says no to Luke Cage?" Eli shrugged sheepishly. Kate bit her lower lip thoughtfully. No one could say 'No' to Jessica Jones, either. She was so nice, and didn't get weird when Kate told her about... that time in the park. She owed her for that.

Dani's coos and banging on the table of the highchair almost put paid to that thought, though.

"Babababababababababa," Dani babbled, banging her spoon against the table as Kate raised her eyes to Eli's.

"You go to Hawthorne Academy," Eli put forward. "Don't they have Rossetta stone programmes for... you know?"

"You work part time in a _library_. Isn't Dr Spock on your pull list? Besides, I'm _sixteen_ and you just don't get babies at -" Kate's spiel was cut off by her squeal as a blob of pear pudding caught her smack in the face. Kate could only wave her hands aimlessly for a minute. Her lighting quick reflexes foiled by baby goo.

_"Oh. " _

"Don't you dare laugh." Kate gritted out, and Eli turned his head and coughed in response. It had better be a cough.

"Well," Eli said a few seconds later as he plucked Dani from her highchair and held her over his head, only for a dollop of Dani's saliva to land right between his eyes.

"Oh, _man_, that's foul. Oh and... did you smell that? Dani!"

Kate brought her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh as Eli glared at her from the corner of one eye. "Don't you dare, laugh," he said. "Don't you dare."

"Nappy change?"

"Yeah."

"Do you-?" she began, knowing that Eli had more siblings than she did, but his scowl put paid to that suggestion.

"Google?" Kate reached into the pocket of her hoodie for her smart phone.

"Google."

Fin.


End file.
